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A Dark and Stormy Night...
AN: The lack of internal monologue, feelings, names (and really anything beyond description and dialogue) is intentional here - this is an experiment based on the prompt to try and get a more visceral, sharp feel, to keep the tight action like you would in a game without adding anything else. PREVIOUSLY: ---- Everyone who said they were used to drops was lying. Everyone did, of course. It was a point of pride for Helljumpers, how unfazed they were, how it was as much of a mundane occurrence as the morning roll call. But deep down, every drop was as bad as your first. “Hermes, Frost Actual. You’re up.” The sudden lurch, the clamps releasing, the pod beginning to fall. “Rainy season down here - cloud cover’s thick.” '' The clouds rushing up beneath you, covering you, swallowing you- ''“Should keep you out of sight.” The sudden jolt of the parachute yanking you upwards, the retro-rockets - the impact, hitting the ground with a force that hammers its way into your bones. Every time was just like the first. Boom. ---- The troopers emerged from their pods to the roar of the rain pelting their helmets, their armour, their bodies. It filled the air, highlighting the gaps - the emptiness, the darkness where the city should be filled with light and noise. “Hermes Three, sound off.” Garcia’s voice cut through the noise like a machete through the jungle - brute force, frustration, determination. “Three-two, check.” “Three-three, check.” “Three-four, check.” A pause, then another voice - lower, thicker, covered in a blanket of static. “All teams, this is Hermes. All units deployed and accounted for.“ “Hermes has been tasked with extraction of four high-value individuals and their escort, callsign Kalis. Drone recon from the mainland indicates that a large number of Covenant forces are mobilising to capture or eliminate them. Your job is to stop that from happening, '''before' tomorrow morning’s counter-offensive. Hermes One is to recon in force and secure an LZ; Two and Three are to rendezvous with the HVIs for recovery, and Four will provide overwatch. How copy? Over.”'' “Hermes, this is Hermes Three - solid copy, we’ll take it from here, out.” Garcia paused, switching the com-loop, the static cutting off a moment later. “Alright, Three, you heard the man. Just a quick jog for a few blocks, pull some jarheads and their pet eggheads out the fire, and we’re home free. Keep it tight, watch your sectors, le-” A flash of bright, dazzling light, streaking down from a balcony overhead. “CONTACT! Sniper, 300 meters, northeast.” Four bodies darted to cover; four weapons raised in unison, firing precise, careful shots. The beam rifle barked again, this time accompanied by bolts of plasma, sizzling through the rain as they passed. “Contact - Elite, 200 meters, nor-” “Three contacts - grunt lance, 200 m-” “Contact - skirmis-” “Sniper neutralised!” “GO, GO, GO!” Heavy boots thundered through the dark streets; one foot in front of the other, in front of the other, in front of the other. For seconds, minutes, hours - for all three, it felt like, all at once. A moment to glance up, a snapshot of an image down the scope of a rifle, a burst of rounds fired, then back to running. Twisting and turning, through the labyrinth of streets, pausing for neither breath nor rest, running as if the storm itself was on their backs. Maybe it was. ---- The gunfire followed them, though - echoing down narrow alleyways, bouncing between concrete and glass, yet constantly there; chasing them, hunting them. That’s where they found Kalis, too. Backed into a corner, a shattered mess of broken glass and scorched steel that was once a canteen. Fleeing like rats, cornered like rats - fighting tooth and claw like rats. More footsteps, forward, cautious; drowned out in the rain, at least for now. “Slowly. Slowly. Hold.” The shadows all moved as one, and they stopped as one. “Kalis, this is Hermes Three - ODST detachment, UNSC Touch of Frost - approaching from your west. How copy, over?” A voice returned from the other end - Garcia was shocked, if only momentarily, at how young the woman sounded. “This is Kalis Two, we copy. B-net shows a sizeable mixed force headed our way - my people ain’t budging ‘til we get that armour support from the'' Yorick.”'' “Negative, Kalis - Poor Yorick was downed a few hours ago over Indonesia. Frost is all that’s going spare - everything else is assigned to a major push tomorrow morning, and you do not want to be around for that much danger close.” A short, sharp laugh from the other end, before a curse in some Outer Colony slang. “Copy that. We’ll round everyone up. Once you open up, we’ll pop smoke and clear out.” “Solid copy.” Pounding hearts, pounding footsteps, pounding rain. Two sets of four figures, one approaching from each end of the street; darting between mounds of rubble and abandoned cars, lurking in the gloom. The wraiths spoke to each other, their words carried on the wind, barely more than a whisper. “Another lance - no, make that two.” “Six grunts, 150 meters.” “I count three, four elites.” “Eyes up, more snipers on the rooftops.” “Hermes Three, this is Two. Ready when you are.” “Alright, Two is in place. Check your targets.” There was time for a sharp breath - and the world exploded into noise. “Weapons free!” By the time the words left his mouth, lead was already downrange. Two bursts, three, each one slamming into the body of an unwary grunt. Ahead, shields flared, strained, and gave out; Sangheili roared in defiance, charged towards the troopers, before going down in bloodied heaps. The besiegers found themselves caught unawares, and for that they paid the price. “Big guy’s down!” “Reloading!” “Frag out!” “Contact - two snipers, rooftop, west.” “I’m on ‘em.” “Overcharge, incoming!” They scattered, diving away from the taxicab as it was turned into burning wreckage - looking up to see hulking figures running out of the billowing smoke. “Contact! Are those brutes, or-?” “Negative! Check fire, '''check fire!' Friendlies!”'' “Didn’t know we would be rescuing the power rangers today.” Spartans. Three of them, their armour battered and scorched - but Spartans nonetheless. And following them, the civilians. One stumbled, for the briefest of moments, almost falling before his guardian slung him over their shoulder, not even breaking their stride. The fire raining down on the Covenant forces paused, for a few long moments, just taking in the sight of them - but the bolts of plasma fired wildly through the fog changed that. “Time to haul ass, gentlemen.” “No need to tell me twice.” “Frost, this is Hermes Two: we have the precious cargo, en route to extraction. Interrogative - are we to recon the area in preparation for tomorrow’s assault?” “Negative, Hermes - Kalis is being retasked, and you’re keeping them company.” A beat. “Hope you guys like swimming. Frost out.” Category:LegendOfElTopo Category:The Weekly